


Supernatural drabbles

by embroiderama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are nine unconnected 100-word drabbles set pre-series and during S1 and S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural drabbles

**In the Mouth**

Dean circled around the old minivan, his eyes lingering on the boxy shape, the fake wood paneling, the rust spots, the dents, the patched tires. Bobby stifled a grin under his moustache as Dean grimaced over at Sam and shifted on his feet, scuffing them in the dirt as he hovered between getting behind the wheel and walking away. When Dean reached inside the van and popped the hood then walked back around to flip the latch open with his thumb, Bobby called out to him.

“Boy, you want to look under that hood, you can just walk to Nebraska.”

**********

**Clinging to the Wheel**

Bobby had watched Dean every day, working on that decrepit pile of American steel, hunting through the yard for parts, leaning over the sink every night, slathering on hand cleaner, bandaging the knuckles he busted up on the undercarriage. Bobby thought the boy was setting himself up for a heap more heartbreak, right on top of losing his daddy, but he knew when to keep his mouth closed.

The sound of that old engine cranking to life woke him early one morning, and he stumbled to the window to see Dean inside, clutching the wheel like he’d never let go.

**********

**Heir of the Dog**

Bobby never did like hurting animals he didn’t intend on eating, but he had no choice. The Labrador bitch that wandered onto his lot was rabid, no doubt, and she’d already taken a bite out of his jacket. He couldn’t risk learning what part of his body she’d take to chewing on next. His bullet caught her between the ears, tearing through her ruined brain. When he knelt next to her body, close enough to see the swollen nipples, teats heavy with milk, he knew he had a batch of new responsibilities hiding from him somewhere out in the woods.

**********

**Waiting**

The last twenty years have stripped John of any belief he once had in home court advantage. On your own turf, you get lazy, complacent. You get comfortable. He’s routed out spirits and demons that have been connected to one house or tree or patch of land for decades, centuries, and he knows the power of surprise, the strength of the invader. Their howls, as he wrenches them free from their roots, echo his own. Now, every day, he takes a sidestep from the pain, tests the strength of his bonds and waits. Because hell will never be his home.

**********

**Awake**

He hoped to hell the boys wouldn’t ever touch this shit, never even consider it. John could feel Mary’s disapproval inside his heart as he walked out of the gas station toward the Impala, toward his boys bedded down in the back seat. He had 700 miles to cover before they got to the next safe place to stop, and the last 50 had been a struggle against his drooping eyelids. He popped one of the sleek black and yellow capsules into his mouth, swallowed it down with a slug of coffee, and slipped the remaining pills into his pocket.

**********

**Perfect Storm**

Dean stands inside the motel room, watching the trees outside sway in the grasp of the hurricane's winds, wondering which wind gust will prove too strong and bring the trees down. Sam was reading the weather news online before the wifi connection dropped out, said there had been too much rain, too much rain for too long, and now the winds would pull the rotted roots out of the unstable ground. Dean closes his eyes and looks at everything around him swaying in the winds and threatening to crash down, and he thinks he knows what rotted roots feel like.

**********

**The Road Less Traveled**

Sam listened to the scuffing sounds his steps made on the road. He listened to his pulse pounding in his head and wondered how long he and Dean could walk down this road without saying a word. Fields stretched around them out to the horizon, and he felt, in that moment, like the road they walked upon could go on forever. Forever with his brother at his side and no one else. Tears prickled in his eyes, and he didn’t know whether they were from gratitude or grief. He blinked, the sun reflecting into prisms. Maybe he was just tired.

**********

**Hunting**

Iowa, even at night, looks nothing like Vietnam, but the stillness in his hands and the fear curling in his gut feel familiar. The full moon washes out the stars, and the last ten years could be an illusion, a dream of comfort and safety. A tap to his shoulder. Bobby signals to the right. The silver flash of eyes in moonlight tells him more than the drawings in Jim’s books could. No man in the sights on his weapon, no natural animal. He pulls the trigger, and the howl of the beast resonates with the rage in his heart.

**********

**Screams**

He’d woken to her screams every night for a week.

Years had passed since his dreams had been plagued by screams, by fire, but he dealt with it the way he always had--trying to stay awake in front of the TV.

He nodded off to jungles and gunfire and again woke to the sound of her screams tearing through him, so loud they seemed real. Once again, John felt drawn to the calm of the nursery.

He touched Sammy’s cheek, felt his soft warmth, but when he saw the blood he knew it hadn’t been a dream this time.


End file.
